


The People Shall Rise

by genarti



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baked Goods, Background Les Amis de l'ABC, Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 22:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10501044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genarti/pseuds/genarti
Summary: "My dear fellow, what are your plans this evening?""Er," said Marius.  He was sure that Courfeyrac knew perfectly well that his plans for the evening were the same as every other since he had left his grandfather's doily-lined basket.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Marius and Cosette being pure cinnamon rolls."
> 
> This is more musical canon than bookverse, by the way, but I'm playing fast and loose with timelines, along with many other things.

"My dear fellow, what are your plans this evening?"

"Er," said Marius. He was sure that Courfeyrac knew perfectly well that his plans for the evening were the same as every other since he had left his grandfather's doily-lined basket: sitting alone on a small plate and thinking melancholy thoughts.

"Yes," said Courfeyrac with satisfaction, "I thought so. Well, then, you ought to come with me to meet a few others. I think you may very well like them. You've met Bossuet already – you remember Lesgles?"

Marius did remember Lesgles. The confusing incident remained quite fresh in his mind. To storm free of one's grandfather's basket with a passionate declaration of the equality of all breadkind was one thing – a fine thing, an act whose honor and righteous fury still made him tremble to the crumbs – but he had not been certain what do to after that. To find oneself greeted by a bird-shaped sugar cookie propped at a rakish angle against a neighboring basket had been entirely startling. With the reflexive categorical bias of his upbringing, he assumed that the sugar cookie had fallen out of its own basket, but instead the cookie had greeted him; the cookie was Lesgles, called Bossuet, with kind eyes and an intimidatingly clever sense of humor and a large patch of icing missing from the top. And Lesgles was friends with Courfeyrac, a crème brulée of creamy, caramelized roundness, who himself had befriended a wandering cinnamon roll as if there were nothing in the slightest peculiar about any of it. Marius remained both desperately grateful and desperately confused.

"I – yes, of course, if you like?"

Courfeyrac beamed in response to Marius's shy attempt at a smile, and pressed against his glazed side amicably. "Wonderful. I'll come again around seven."

And off he slid, leaving Marius unsure whether to anticipate the evening's mysterious meeting with joy or social dread. What if he said the wrong thing? What if there were women there, who could not possibly be his dear Cosette, so far only glimpsed from shelves away? He had never learned how to talk to women without feeling sure they were laughing at him, which made him want to hide under an entire stack of napkins. And who were these friends, in any case?

He lapsed into a reverie of profound contemplation of the nature of friendship, which smoothed the time away but failed to supply him any answers. He was startled when Courfeyrac knocked his ramekin amicably against the edge of Marius's solitary plate. 

"Come along," said Courfeyrac, shepherding him along the shelf. "It's right this way. We gather sometimes on the Musain platter."

Marius had never been to this back corner of the display case. It wrapped around in an L, and the platter in question was all the way at the far end of the long arm. But there, on a wide china platter with blue and red swags painted around the rim, were the most miscellaneous collection of baked goods he had ever seen. 

He might have thought that they were a collection of day-olds, but that that there was no plastic wrap around any of them, and they were all in a bustle of friendly chatter. It was like a tray of rolls fresh from the baker, all murmuring together in amiable warmth, except that this was no tidy row or circle of rolls all alike. A cupcake of astonishingly garish icing was declaiming something (of which Marius only caught occasional words) to a cobblestone muffin with a scarlet wrapper quite at odds with the sober usual sober browns. A lava cake with a sleek and shining glaze murmured to a lemon éclair, with occasional input from a millefeuille. Bossuet the sugar cookie was nestled as a garnish in the icing of a cinnamon cupcake with decorative cat ears; as Marius watched uncertainly, he slid down to land atop a rum ball, to general laughter but not the slightest pause in anyone's talking, including his own.

Marius jumped at a touch to his side. But it was only Courfeyrac, leaning against him for a moment in friendly reassurance. "Nothing like your grandfather's basket, are we?" he said.

"Why – no," answered Marius, and found himself starting to smile. "No, certainly not. Very well, introduce me?"

Thus came Marius Pontmercinnamon's first introduction to the Amis de la Boulangerie, and his first true introduction to the cause of the equality of all breadkind, free from the despotism of pricing, the categorizing of single-produce platters, and the tyranny of sell-by dates.

**Author's Note:**

> ...Yep. Here's the rundown of Amis:
> 
> Marius - cinnamon roll  
> Je(h)an Prouvaire: eccentrically decorated cupcake  
> Enjolras: lava cake with beautifully shining glaze  
> Grantaire: rum ball  
> Bahorel: cobblestone muffin  
> Courfeyrac: crème brulée  
> Combeferre: lemon eclair  
> Feuilly: millefeuille  
> Joly: cupcake with kitty ears and a kitty face design  
> Bossuet: bird-shaped sugar cookie, sadly lacking icing, settles on various Amis as a garnish but mostly on Joly
> 
> Not appearing in detail: Cosette is also a cinnamon roll. Valjean is bread pudding (but his dark secret is that he was made out of a stale rustic loaf a day overdue to be thrown out, rather than out of cinnamon bread as he claims.)


End file.
